


the bear and her hound

by racoongal



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, shameless self insert im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:41:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18742042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racoongal/pseuds/racoongal
Summary: SO*spoilers for *8.04*oc is Reya (pronounced ray-uh) Mormont, last surviving daughter of House Mormont. this is the story of beauty and the beast!





	the bear and her hound

Reya Mormont is the last of her house. Her father, the lord commander of the Nights Watch, has been long dead. Her brother, protector of the dragon queen, dead as of last night, and before that exiled. Her sister, aged barely one-and-ten, taken with them in the great battle for Winterfell.  _May the gods lead them home to Bear Island,_ she prays. 

It is the pale hour of dawn and the ground steams with burning flesh. She picks her way lightly through the rubble and carnage, looking for him. 

They met recently, but Reya feels as if she's known him for a long while. A few moons ago, the king Jon Snow entrusted her and a handful of men to venture with him north of the Wall. Their mission to capture a wight and parlay the lion queen (while now fruitless as the Great War has ended and Cersei lies in wait along the Southern border), lead her to encounter a singular man.

The Hound they called him, _aptly named as well,_ for though she had spent her entire life amongst the company of brutes, none had so enraptured her. Not initially however, for at the beginning there was much spite tossed between them, as is Sandor's manner. And Reya, ever experienced with crude men, was quick to respond unkind. It was the descent of the long night and their fight for the living that changed them. Thoros, Beric, Jon, and Gendry had teased at their bickering, seeing it for the flirtation it was. 

 _I am to burn my brother and sister soon_. Making her way through the courtyard, she finds King Jon. His weariness is clear in the small smile they share. 

"Your Grace, did- do you know if-" She attempts to bring herself to ask of Sandor, but is suddenly stricken with the reality of his probable death. Jon shakes his head and moves to answer when he is interrupted by a gruff and familiar voice from across the yard,

"I told you I'm a tough fucker to kill." Reya is not a maid, nor a young girl, and she has killed many men (live and wight alike), but at the sound of his voice, the rush of love and relief brings color to her cheeks. 

They had been intimate, earlier that night and on the eve of the battle ( _m_ _ere hours ago but feels like damned years)_. He had come to her, put up in one of the empty lords chambers in the great hall. They exchanged no words, but Reya felt as if her love must've been written across her face clear as day. He had gripped her waist gently and softly, his large calloused hands and hulking stature large and contrary to the tenderness with which he held her. In the candlelight, in the face of death, it had seemed the simplest thing in the world to fall into bed together. 

She had laid her fingertips caressingly atop the scarred half of his face and whispered, "There is kindness in you Clegane. You believe it to be burnt away but I see it." To this he kissed her soundly, murmuring sweet nothings of her beauty and calling her 'little bear, little bear'. Their kiss had quickly grown passionate and burdened with lust. He had picked her up as easily as a bag of flour, to wrap her legs around his waist. They made love once fastly, against the stone wall, and once slowly, in the pillowed bed.

It had so surely felt like farewell. 

So now when, in the briskly breaking light of morning, she sees him caked in blood and dirt but still breathing, it is with the last of her exhausted strength that she throws herself into his arms. They embrace, his head tucked into the crook of her neck and shoulder, and Reya writes away the wetness in his eyes as fatigue. When they pull apart all she can bring herself to say is,

"Are you sure you're not a Northmen?"

His laugh is gravelly and deep, music to her ears. This is only heightened by the laughter of their audience and the chorus of 'hear hear!' by Jon and Gendry. 

"Fuck off you speccy cunts!" Sandor shouts over her shoulder, which sparks her laughter as well. They stand in the remnants of the Great War, covered in shit and blood and dirt, and they laugh. 

Years later, when she is asked "why?", "why would a highborn beauty and Northern general love a beastly executioner from the South?" 

She will only say, "I've always loved dogs." 


End file.
